


Footnotes

by theprimrosepath



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Aromantic Artagan, Best Friends, Critical Role Spoilers, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Jester Lavorre Needs a Hug, Jester Lavorre-centric, Minor Fjord/Jester Lavorre, Minor Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast, Relationship Discussions, episode 118 specifically, of:, this isn't heavy on the angst but she always needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27904039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprimrosepath/pseuds/theprimrosepath
Summary: Jester seeks relationship advice from—who else?—her best friend.
Relationships: Artagan & Jester Lavorre, Jester Lavorre & The Traveler
Comments: 13
Kudos: 67





	Footnotes

Jester stares intently into the mirror and traces the curves of her horns. Her jewelry chimes softly in the wake of her careful, curious fingers. They _are_ a little bigger, a little longer. There are additional ridges that weren't there before.

"What do you think, Artie?" she asks.

From behind her, the smooth voice of her best friend replies, "Yes, it does seem that odd device you described took a few years from you. Around four, perhaps, give or take another year." His hand comes to rest on her shoulder, and he leans in from her side to scowl at the mirror. "Rude of it. That's four less years I can have with you."

Jester pats Artagan's hand. "Four years isn't that bad. I mean, it could've made me an old lady or something."

"Yes, but _still_."

She turns to him as he straightens, brow still furrowed.

"I wish I could do something about it, my dear," he mutters. "But it was a deal made fairly. It's not within my power to reverse it."

"It's okay." Jester puts a smile on her face and sets aside the few thoughts in her mind swirling with worry. There's no point in regretting a cost she's already paid. Besides, it's not like four years will matter if the Tomb Takers succeed and they all get eaten by the city in the next week. "Really, I didn't expect anything. It's just hard to tell if I've"—she drops her voice dramatically and flips her hair—" _matured_. I want your honest opinion."

Artagan raises an eyebrow, then settles a studious gaze on her.

Jester strikes a very dignified pose on her bench.

A long but comfortable moment passes as Artagan leans in a little to scrutinize her better, rubbing his chin with a hand in semi-serious contemplation. When she grins at him, he smirks back.

He settles on his heels and says, "Your cheekbones _are_ a little more pronounced."

Jester hisses a quiet _yes_.

"As you already know, your horns have grown as well. They make a lovely frame for your face, just like your mother. And," he gestures at the whole of her with magnificence and a warm, proud voice, "you continue to grow into a wonderful young woman. You are nothing but in the prime of your life, my dear Jester."

She beams at him and mimes a curtsey. "Thank you, Artie."

Artagan's returning smile is gracious and fond. He waves a hand in the air, verdant magic glimmering briefly around his fingers as a chair across the room glides over in time for him to sit upon it a second later, just across from Jester.

"So," he says. "What else is troubling you, then?"

Just like that, the lightheartedness Jester has been trying to maintain falters. The warm crackling of the fireplace isn't as merry. She chews her lip and reaches for the mug of hot cocoa on her vanity for something to hold onto.

How does she start to explain this? That a year ago this thing worrying her now would have had such a simple and obvious answer—that she's rejected now for months. That a year ago she didn't know anything about friendship and family that she didn't learn within the boundaries of the Chateau. That now her family is all in something dangerous— _really_ dangerous in a way that could kill them all in a week or two, and she doesn't know what that means when a day ago—

"Fjord kissed me," she blurts out.

Artagan leans back in the chair, crosses his arms, and says, "Hm."

Jester chews her lip harder and flexes her fingers around the mug of hot cocoa. "And it's really funny because if he had done that, like, six months ago, I would have been so happy that I'd have probably fainted like people in the books do sometimes. And I _am_ happy, right now. But I don't know what to do."

"Well, did you kiss him back?"

"Yeah, and it was really nice," Jester says despairingly.

Artagan tilts his head. "But?"

"But—but—I don't know if it's _love_."

There's a considering sigh from her friend. He runs a hand through his curly mane of flaming-orange hair. "I must admit, my dear, that love is not exactly my bailiwick. Love for tricks, yes, and clever pranks, and delightful partners such as you. But when many other archfey were longing like mortals do and wrote poetry and broke hearts, I was rather busy fooling some of Corellon's followers into worshipping the corpse of a giant whale."

" _A giant whale?_ "

He adds, "I'll tell you the story sometime."

"You'd better."

"In short, though, I've always found romance to be a bit dull for my tastes. Not that I think it's stupid to fall in love, people do it all the time and I have better things to do than trying to ruin their fun—unlike some other boring individuals," Artagan mutters as an aside. "It's simply never been that interesting to _me_. So forgive me in advance. Was the kiss not clear enough for you?"

Jester sips at her cocoa and makes a really uncertain noise. "I mean. I really liked it. I like Fjord. He's brave, and caring, and a good friend."

"But those do not a lover make?"

"I don't know about _lover_ ," she says with a wrinkle of her nose. "It's been, like, a day."

Artagan just hums in a way that Jester thinks is trying to come off as understanding but actually is a little confused. She appreciates that he's willing to not question it, though.

"I think I'm just worried about... well, the fact that we might die pretty soon," she says quietly.

"Yes, that Lucien fellow."

She nods.

The disdain in Artagan's tone aches. She misses Molly. She really wishes it was just Molly so they'd have their friend again and none of this would be a problem.

"That city they want to bring back is terrible." She shudders, her memory of the visions more gruesome with every recollection. "And, I don't know, I feel like this isn't enough time. I don't... I don't want either me or Fjord to jump into this relationship _because_ we might die in a week or two. That sounds dumb, I know, why wouldn't I just take the chance?"

"My dear, you are _never_ dumb. In fact, you sound more mature than most mortals ever have to me."

She smiles weakly. "Thanks?"

Artagan sighs and leans forward, the long sleeves of his robe piling around his knees as he braces his elbows on them. "Jester. You are hardly indebted to that man in the coming days. If you need the reassurance, I think it is wise of you to feel the way you do. I mean, if _I_ felt I was going to die soon somehow, I still wouldn't go off to make one more cult for old times' sake. First of all, how embarrassing would it be to be trapped in the Feywild again for my last days because Sehanine decided enough was enough?"

The smile on her face is much more genuine now. It's a comfort to find her best friend still the same.

"Moreover," he continues, "you would not be pleased with me at all for tricking some more poor fools into a false religion. And then what happens if I don't die after all? I'm stuck with the consequences of some truly rash decisions. I imagine that is why you're worried if this is the love you desire."

"Yeah," she whispers. "Yeah, that's exactly it."

Artagan's expression softens. He waves a hand, ephemeral glittering green woven through his fingers.

Fragrant steam brushes Jester's nose as the mug heats in her hands. She smiles gratefully and takes a sip from the now fresh and full mug of hot cocoa. It warms her belly a little more magically than normal.

Her friend settles back in the chair again and says, "You're afraid of a rash decision for more than its own sake, though." He nods toward her bed.

Her latest sketchbook rests on top of the covers. She flushes and ducks her head a little.

It's not just the bed that was wonderful at first sight. Her entire suite is _amazing_. It feels like home—a proper home, the one that reflects her now rather than the eager and oblivious girl who first left Nicodranas. Still her childhood bedroom, with her knickknacks and art and luxurious bed canopy, but more mature. Jester loves who she is and who she was; she always will. That confidence was hard-earned. But she won't say she isn't grateful for how far she's come in the past year.

And that someone noticed and built it for her.

There are a lot of drawings of Caleb filling the most recent pages of her sketchbook. An embarrassing number of them. Her cheeks flame purple as she realizes Artagan has seen every single one of them.

"Yeah, um. He's... um..."

She needs Artagan's steady gaze off of her for at least a second. She stands up with stiff limbs, shuffles over to the nightstand, and returns with a book that she mutely offers him.

He takes it, bemused.

She sits back down on the bench and buries her face in her hands for a moment of deep breathing.

" _The Cat Prince_."

"Yeah," Jester mumbles, straightening again. "He read it to me because it's in Zemnian and I can't read it."

Artagan is flipping curiously through the pages of lovely artwork. "Is it good?"

"It's so adorable. It's about a boy who has to stay alone at home all the time because he's too sick, and his mom has to go to town to work every day, and he meets a magic cat prince who helps him dance and makes him healthy again."

"Huh. Not what I would expect from a Zemnian children's story."

Jester laughs a little, face still warm. "That's what he said, too. But... he said that's why his mom read it to him all the time."

And man, isn't that a lot to unpack?

Artagan gives a considering hum as he closes the book and sets it on her vanity.

She fidgets with her thumbs. "He's... I think I really like him, too."

"Oh, Jester. You really have gotten yourself into a romance novel, haven't you?"

A nervous giggle escapes her lips.

Maybe Jester-from-one-year-ago would be at a loss at this point, too. It was always a difficult situation for the protagonist in the books when they liked more than one person. They certainly didn't always make choices _she_ liked.

"I don't know what to do, Artie," she admits again.

Artagan gives her another compassionate look as he leans forward to first brush a few locks of her hair behind one ear and then cup his hands around hers. "I don't have the answers for everything, sadly, as you know all too well. About romance even less so. But I daresay that if you want to focus on stopping Lucien and his team of troublemakers first, no one would blame you. If they do, then they don't deserve you." 

Jester laughs, smiling crookedly. "Yeah."

"As for the question of what to do if you do survive"—Artagan squeezes her hands against the mug—"which I believe you will, pardon the poor choice of words but I have faith in you. Maybe things will be different by then and the answer easier to find. Maybe not. But don't let anyone else tell you what you can or can't do, because the truth is that we _can_ and _will_ do whatever the fuck we want. How else will the time we have be least regretted?"

A sense of surety begins to return to her as she nods. She doesn't have to commit to anything right away, and it is nothing but fair if she wants to process her own feelings first.

"If you're open to suggestions, however..." He grins wickedly. "Why settle for one when you could have both?"

That makes more laughter rise to Jester's lips.

He's not wrong, after all, but mostly she is so relieved to feel the guilty weight of her uncertainty lighten a little. Maybe things _will_ become clearer in the next couple weeks, if they don't die.

Artagan squeezes her hands again before he withdraws to his chair. "I suspect I've been of help here."

Jester snorts some more and sips her cocoa. "Yeah, for once. Thank you, Artie. Can I get your help with one more question, though?"

"Fire away."

"How is my birthday supposed to work now?"

**Author's Note:**

> fjord/jes shippers, MAN SHE WAS QUIET AFTER. jes/caleb shippers, SHE KISSED FJORD. this is essentially the first time the issue of a love triangle between all cast members has even been in the air, much less played out. i'm excited to see if laura intends to explore those consequences.
> 
> meanwhile, i post my own mess of thoughts on what i think is going through jester's mind. inb4 we get more than half an episode on what direction laura is gonna take this ride lol.
> 
> find me at [@primrose-path-of-dalliance](https://primrose-path-of-dalliance.tumblr.com) on tumblr, where i post fandom things and the occasional bit of writing.


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